Frances Pauli's Blog, page 7

My Ongoing Serial Addiction

I am a child of whims at time. I get "hooked" on things, and yes, sometimes it is a silly dragon breeding game on facebook... (still can't get them to make a poo dragon!) or the koi app on my tablet that I am now chained to (or the poor things go belly up!).

But sometimes I get addicted to something truly cool. Most of the ridiculous fads pass and I let the Neopet die, or stop logging into the dragon world, or what have you. I get it out of my system, get over it, and move on.

But serials have really hooked me....from day one. And they have held me fast too.

One of the first things I ever published was a web serial. Space Slugs is now finished, metamorphosed into a book, ebook and soon-to-be audio book, and the second one, Slug Opera, is on its next to last episode. I haven't been an enormous serial success, let me tell you. I'm pretty much talking to the crickets out there, but I have no intention of stopping either, and I'll tell you why.

I love them.

Simple enough answer. I love the format, the deadline the multiple cliffhangers. I love them. I read them too, and that's a big deal to me, living on both sides of the fan/author barrier. (which is in itself a fiction construct...but that's a different rant)

So when I discovered Jukepop, it wasn't surprised that I climbed aboard as fast as I could. I signed up and started reading and wow was I shocked at the awesome talent on there. Great stories, really strong writing, the kind of thing that throws me straight into a tide of self doubt and chocolate nibbling for days on end. I found at least a half dozen serials that I wanted to keep reading, plopped them onto my bookshelf for new chapter updates, and then got busy working on submitting one of my own.
(cause the self-doubt only lasts so long)

Today I got the answer and I am so tickled I can't stop...you guessed it, nibbling chocolate again.

The new story, The Earth Tigers, is now available through Jukepop and I am officially a Jukepop author.
wheeeeee!!

Also...it has big spiders.
can't go wrong there.


Have a peek?
~Frances

Packing for Con

It's convention season again...
and I'm a little bit excited.
Just because I spend most of the year writing my large, aging buttocks off, (that's my five year old's new favorite word: buttocks. She uses it whenever she possibly can find an opening) doesn't mean I'm not an enormous fan. I am. A fan. First and foremost.
So when con season rolls around, I do start packing up inventory and arranging panels and promotions and hand outs, yes...but mostly I'm dreaming of that Romulan ale they serve in Ten Forward, and the costumes and the stuff to buy....wow, the stuff to buy. 
Alongside my "author" prep, I gather my fan gear. My Star Fleet insignia, my costumes, jewelry and books that I want to get signed. This year, I got really fancy and I made this:

It's a Horgh'an, and I'm super proud of it. I meant to bring it to show off and to keep in the hotel room. I meant to. Unfortunately, the Horgh'an will not be coming to con. You see, my husband looked it up on the internet. 
*snicker* 
It's still pretty cool, right? Even if it has to stay home. I bust my ass charting that bad boy. (So bad! Look it up, go on.) 
Anyway. I'm off to convention. I hope to see some of you there. If you miss it, I'll do a report when I return, We have dealer's room this year....I'm hoping its very close to Ten Forward. 
:)Bring on the Ale!~Frances

Dating Advice for Authors

We're all pretty clear on the fact that I'm not a Spring chicken any longer. So, if I'm getting up there, then we can fairly well trust that my grandmother was close to ancient. She was. She used to call the couch a davenport. Hot dogs were wienies (no snickers) and she wore a housecoat instead of a robe. 
Grandma said things that made us blush as young 'uns. She told us not to give the cow away for free...you know the rest of that one, right? Like all of the things our elders say, I found her advice mortifying and/or embarrassing most of the time. 
But I've been thinking about it lately, and something that our grandmother's told us, has really lodged in my thoughts relating to writing. You knew I'd get back around to that, didn't you? It is an obsession.
What our grandmothers, or mothers, or teachers said was, "be yourself, and the people who like you will like you for who you really are." 
You know, 'cause if you have to be someone you're not to get: boyfriend, friend, (readers) then what you end up with is a boyfriend or friends or (readers) who like someone else. Not you at all. 
See, I've been beating myself up about my lack of genre focus. I write whatever the hell story I want to, and it's rarely in the same genre as the last one. If you ask anyone about this, they'll shake their heads and remind you that yes, you have to write the book you want to read, but you should probably do it in a more focused way if you actually want readers. 
Well, I do want readers. But I don't want to give them the wrong idea. And I cannot promise to write sweet, fairy tale fantasy tomorrow. Even if I wrote it today. 
I know. I just shrank my potential reader pool to the tiny shallow stream of people who read like I do. Who bounce. Who like to read scifi AND fantasy god forbid. (kidding. but seriously someone once asked me how I could possibly write both) But I LIKE how I read and I like how I write. I have always read across many genres. From Tom Clancy to Barbara Cartland (someone revive that poor critic in the back) and I enjoy them all. And yes, both of those authors have branded themselves in a single niche. But my all-time favorite author is Christopher Moore and he pretty much writes whatever the hell he wants to. Sure, it's all hilarious, but its still kind of all over the place. 
Amen. So, I have come to terms with the fact that its going to affect my ability to find readers. Maybe I will find none. But at least I won't have to be someone else. I don't particularly want readers who think I'm someone I'm not. They'd only be disappointed in the end.  And I understand branding. I do. I'm old, not daft. I can brand a series and I can brand a pseudonym etc. etc. I do, and I will. But I know who I am, too. And that's who I want people to like or not like. Their pick. 
Better yet, let them like the books and not me at all. Let the books stand on their own and I'll just slip off into a corner here and ....probably write more stories...obsession and all. 
Hug your grandmother.~Frances

A New Fictional Structure?

I used to think structure meant a huge-ass, heavy outline that had more pages than the final novel and was basically a ginormous waste of time.

Go ahead, laugh.

It's all right. I learned my lesson. I converted, became a structure disciple, in fact. And I am a die-hard, in the camp of planning it all out (or at least those golden plot points) before hand author.

But then I got thinking about gamers.

I believe that film affected plot structure in a big way, you see. I believe that authors have had to speed things up, blow things up, in order to keep an audience that has become used to a cinematic film structure. Okay, maybe not all authors. There are some Austen fans out there who still go in for witty dialogue. The point is, in general, fictional structures have evolved.

I like evolution a lot, but it has a pesky tendency to keep going...usually just when you get comfortable where you are.

Now I'm watching a movie with my Gamer nephew, a movie that I'm thinking is a bit odd, quirky, out of line, and he suddenly sits forward, eyes glued, and whispers, "boss battle." Ahhhhhh. Mind blown.

When gamers get together, they don't talk about cheats and keystrokes and treasure (well not first) anymore. They talk about plot. I've heard them. They talk about the new Mass Effect (sequel!) and the character arc and the love interest and factions and things I have NO IDEA about.
But I recognize it. This is "word of mouth" happening. This is gripping, engaging story that spreads fandom like wild fire.
And it has migrated in a big way to MMORGs and RPGs and things that go beep beep beep BOOM.

It still happens with books, sure. And with movies, oh yes. But even at writer's group, the fannish talk often turns to the latest release....of a video game.

And they have a different story structure. I'm almost sure of it. It was that familiar structure that my nephew responded to. I don't know if anyone has mapped it, (outside of the game writers, that is) but I have this little whisper of suspicion that somebody should.

Maybe it involves leveling up and equipping and boss battles.
Maybe the final villain/climax should always be destroyed only to immediately morph into a BIGGER and MORE EVIL final boss.
I dunno. But I should.

I think I should.
I think I need to study a little....just in case.

Because where the masses go, is where they are comfy, and that is where there OH JOY. I LOVE THIS AND MUST TALK ABOUT IT TO EVERYONE buttons are pushed.
I suspect we should be paying attention to this.

Even if it scares the bejeezus out of us.

game...or write...on.
~Frances

What are you up to?

It's always good to be up to something. Keeps the powers that be guessing and all. So, what I've been up to lately is tying up a lot of things and stirring up new trouble.

The second book in the Space Slugs webserial is only two episodes (or so) away from the end. I'm not 100% certain of the future for that series, but odds are, the third book I originally planned either isn't going to happen or won't happen for some time. Sad to see Slugs sign off, but it's had a very long run and the story has unfolded to a conclusion.

To fill the web fiction void of its passing, (because I don't have enough to do apparently) I will be kicking off a new web series asap. Probably before the final Slug Opera goes live. I'm pretty excited about it, and when the muse sings like that, I have learned to pay attention. Also, I have no patience.

You can find it and more info about it here: http://theearthtigers.blogspot.com/
and I thought an excerpt would be nice by way of introductions. Keep in mind the same webfiction rules apply. This is rough draft material and not a long edited/revised final version. If and when segments of the story tie up nicely, they may or may not be revised, polished bound and put up in one or more final versions to be announced at any spur of the moment decision on my part.

In short, this is just for fun, folks, and I'm a big fan of fun.

The Earth TigersThe jungle shifted like waves in the early sunlight. The movement was ever present in the upper canopy. The activities of myriad birds and beetles, rippled across emerald fronds and made a seascape of the treetops. From the tip of the last standing pyramid, Horatch watched the world awaken. He shifted his rearmost legs, spun in a tiny arc to allow the sun's warmth to reach his carapace, and ran the tip of his foremost metatarsus through his chelicerae until each bristle lay as flat and smooth as velvet. He groomed each foot in turn, eight soft, snow white toes tipped with hooked claws that could spear the tightest of tree bark without slowing him down. When he'd finished with his tarsi, Horatch turned again, reached one rear leg up as high as it would go and scrubbed it slowly across his bulbous abdomen. Soothing, always smoothing. The bristles that lay flat would keep the T'rant flying along his way, would keep him fast and agile, unlike his stouter, fuzzier cousins. "I suspected I would locate you here." The words of his former mate vibrated through the pyramid stones. They reached him, tarsi first, and drove his long legs to a tenser, more upright posture. "Niatha." He tightened his chelicerae and swiveled to face her. His abdomen raised to the sun, and he lowered his body, dipped toward the pitted stone in a bow of respect. "I was unaware you looked for me.""Of course. I only realized who I sought upon finding you." Niatha dipped in return, less deeply and with a lowered abdomen. The gesture still honored him. Once, he had tapped at the mouth of her burrow and she had happily received him. The eggsac of their mating had not proven viable, however, and their pairing could not continue. That she acknowledged him at all now, was testament to their lingering affection, one that her current mate would not find welcome."Has the council adjourned already?" "Only for a short recess." She tapped her fangs together to punctuate the statement. Her bristles made an iridescent sheen in the early light, primarily olive, but with hints of fire at the right angle. Each of her tarsi bore an electric orange bolt that, he knew, flashed even in the darkness of her burrow. "We will continue once the sun is fully up.""And what will they decide, do you think?""They will decide what I tell them to, in the end." Niatha sagged, looking older than he liked despite the fact that she would long outlive his own span. The weight of leadership wore on her. Her eyes shone with less brightness these days, and her voice vibrated with little force. "They cannot deny the future any longer. The burrows of the Great Ones are stirring..."

Plot Till You Drop

We had a New Year's Eve party for writer's group again this year. I hosted, and in a last-minute panic realized that, aside from "write all night", I had nothing planned on the activity/entertainment end of the spectrum.

We had some booze, of course, and you know writers, but still....we needed something to DO when the fingers got crampy.

Thankfully a good friend who is not a writer had been cleaning out her storage a few days earlier. She'd discovered a GINORMOUS cork board and immediately thought of me. This is not as weird as it sounds. I home school.

So, I had this lovely monstrosity leaning up against the hallway walls and I desperately needed a way to entertain many drunk authors well into the wee hours. Hmmm.
A few push pins, some sticky notes and 3x5 cards later and we had a "plot board."

Or as I like to call it: Plot Till You Drop. 
In truth, this is more of a work tool than a game, but thankfully, most writers have trouble discerning between work and fun anyway. It's also huge. So, the plotting stage becomes a workout routine too. A full body plotting session just might burn a calorie or two (or so I keep telling myself). 
What you see above is my late night efforts with the next Kingdoms Gone book, blame the Bearer. It looks like a mess, doesn't it? The truth is...well, we'll see after it's written, but in my book, Plot Till You Drop is a big win.

~Frances

My Nutcracker Obsession

I prefer to call it a "collection" but when I'm not in the room, I believe the term obsession is applied.
Yes, there's a Pharaoh in there.
Since I probably won't get off my duff between now and Christmas to post, I figured I'd share my toy soldiers and an excerpt from my Nutcracker romance, Twelve Dances for a little bit of my favorite holiday tradition.


Excerpt:
 “You can tell me at the party.”    “Right. Sure.” What the hell had she been thinking? Clara hung up the phone and leaned her head against the wall. The stupid dream had shaken her up is all. She’d just woken feeling nostalgic and naturally reached out to family. “I’m losing my mind.”    Across the room, her nutcrackers stared and smiled their stiff grins. The dream dance whispered to her, the memory still crisp enough to cling to. She could hear the music, soft, familiar. Holy shit, she was losing her mind. Clara shook her head and turned her back on the princes. Dream or not, dancing with princes didn’t pay the rent, and she had to get to work.
  
    The tree jingled overhead. Not again. Clara sat and stared at the branches. Same plums, same tree, same dress—she laughed and stood up. The ground shone with silver leaves, and the fog called with the echo of a distant oboe. She could think of worse dreams to be stuck in.    She shrugged and skipped down the path. This time she knew the world around her for a dream. This time she knew exactly what to expect and couldn’t help but hurry to the edge of the dance floor. Her princes would be waiting. Clara broke through the fog and slid out onto the smooth floor just as the nutcrackers began their march down the stairs.    She watched them this time, stood close enough to catch the details. The sound of boots rang out—march, march. Her nutcrackers lined up along the floor’s edge in coats of green, blue and burgundy. They wore tall hats, crowns, helmets and some sparkled with huge jewels. Each face was individual, though each wore the same, phony version of the nutcracker’s swirly mustache. Clara couldn’t help but smile at the stern expressions behind the ridiculous disguises.    Clara also couldn’t help looking behind them. Her eyes just drifted up to the spot where her newest prince stood. He already peered at her, eyes glinting like sapphires. His mouth twitched at a corner, and he tilted his head ever so slightly in her direction. Clara’s breath caught in her throat. She felt the heat of a blush creep into her cheeks. The nutcracker stood at attention, almost not smiling.    But her dance partner this time clacked out of line to her far left, and she had to scramble to meet him. She slid into his arms just as the music kicked up and they moved out into the dance. The floor tiles shifted under their steps, glinting in a pattern of holly berries and candy canes. Clara watched their feet slide over the tiles, leaned into the nutcrackers hold and stared out as the silver world swirled around them to the hollow notes of the oboe.
     Available at Devine Destinies and Amazon

Yule Romance Excerpt

I'm feeling all holly jolly at the moment, so I thought I'd drag out the Holiday stories for some excerpt time. 
This bit is from Lords of Oak and Holly, a Yule Romance published by Devine Destinies. 

 When Maris loses the annual ice sculpting competition, her favorite season takes a turn toward dismal. The rent is due and her landlady won't accept a fourth place ribbon. When the mysterious Lord Brayce arrives with a last minute commission, Maris jumps at the chance. But as her host's icy exterior begins to melt away, Maris finds there is far more to him than meets the eye and his attentions leave her wishing this particular job could last forever. 
When Brayce's family arrives for the holiday, Maris is plunged head-over-heels into a world of secrets and an age-old conflict between brothers. 

Can an ordinary girl survive at the center of a battle straight out of myth? And if her impossible suspicions are correct, what are the odds that Maris can win her prince?
EXCERPT:
“Here it comes!” Gaia squealed like a girl and stepped out into the drive.
Siere moved faster, herding her back onto shelter just as the sleigh emerged from the haze. It raced up the driveway past the huge oak, the beasts ambling at the forefront barely clearing the tree’s branches. They leaned into the traces and swung their necks forward and back, jingling the bell collars as they moved.
The sleigh they pulled dwarfed any Brayce had ever seen—and he’d seen his share. The four animals hauling it, however, baffled him completely. They stumbled to a halt in front of the entrance, standing on flat, leathery feet and swinging ugly heads in all directions. He felt his ire stirring, that his brother had conjured such an oddity, that he’d managed to fit his gift to such a traditional holiday theme.
But beside him, Maris laughed. She pulled his arm closer and he leaned down. “They’re camels,” she whispered.
The creatures indicated tilted their droopy noses toward the sky and bellowed a sound full of gravel and cough. Brayce smiled. Camels. He’d heard of them, but never imagined such a travesty of limbs and fur and drooping features. “Camels,” he said. “Wonderful.”
Siere had launched himself into the sleigh as soon as it trundled to a halt. He stood on the padded seat beside a well-wrapped driver and swept one arm wide to include the entire vehicle. “Mahogany,” he said. “Inlaid with gold and hand painted here.” He pointed out the scrollwork designs along the side rails. “And here.”

“It’s lovely, dear.” His mother took a step toward the sleigh. Meanwhile Chronos approached the team, drawing another round of gargling from the curving throats. “What about the animals?”
“Camels,” Brayce interjected. He saw Siere’s jaw drop and grinned. “They’re camels, Mother.”
“From the Orient,” Maris added.
He could have kissed her for the matter-of-fact tone she used, as if one saw camels everyday where she came from. They made a great team. Pulling her even closer to his side, he watched the consternation twisting over Siere’s face and enjoyed the glow of victory. But when his father reached up to pat one of the saggy necks, Maris stiffened.
“Lord Brayce,” she whispered. “I’m not sure if he should.”
“Are they dangerous?” He stood up, concern for his father replacing any smug sense of satisfaction. He stepped toward the team at the same moment the nearest camel peeled back its excessive lips. The skin on its face vibrated and a wet hiss emerged. It finished with splat.
Gaia squealed again. This time it held more horror than wonder. Brayce stared at his father and couldn’t help but grimace. A large, blackish wad of spit clung to the front of Chronos’ suit. As they watched, it sagged and slid down the fabric, leaving a sickly green trail in its wake. The camel gargled its own triumph and bobbed its head.
All eyes fixed on the blob as it detached from his father’s trousers and slurped into the snow. Brayce felt Maris shudder beside him. Chronos clapped his hands together and shook off the last clinging bit of goo.
“Wonderful!” he said. Knowing their father, he actually meant it.




Lords of Oak and Holly
and ON AMAZON

Scifi Romance on the Loose

The first book in the Princes of the Shroud SFR series released this week, and I'm so excited about the book, the awesome cover art and the amazing house that has taken on the series. For SFR Brigade presents this week, I wanted to post and excerpt from Shrouded.

The book is on tour also, so look for info below the excerpt and thanks for stopping by!

~Frances

PRINCES OF THE SHROUDbook oneSHROUDED

Snippet:
“That’s it.” Samra leaned forward and tapped the driver on the sleeve. “That’s the warehouse there.”
Vashia squinted at the call numbers while the hover drives quelled and the cab bobbled to a halt. She listened to the hydraulics as the door slid open. She stared at the building outside while Sam slid from the vehicle.
“I don’t know, Sam.” She shook her head. “What if this is worse than the alternative?”
“Kiddo, I don’t want to scare you.” Samra turned her back on the warehouse and fixed Vashia with a level, dead-serious expression. “But Jarn’s no stranger in my quarter. Word has it the whores draw straws to see who gets to be off duty when he visits. Catch my drift?”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“At least this way there’s a chance you won’t get an evil S.O.B.”
“Right.”
“You could always go back to your dad, see if you can get him to see reason. Maybe he’ll change his mind if you talk—”
“No.” She shook her head and crawled out of the cab. “Not my father, Sam. He as good as sold me off.”
“I’m sorry, Kiddo. I wish there was a better option.”
“Thanks for everything, Sam.”
“Good luck.” Samra climbed back in the cab and favored Vashia with a sad smile before closing the door. The cab hummed back to power with a bump and then skimmed away to round the end of the next warehouse.
Vashia stood and listened until she couldn’t discern its engine from the hum of others in the distance. She waited until there was no more excuse to wait and then turned to face her destination. Samra had delivered her to a building that hid in the shadow of its larger neighbors. The corrugated sided bowed out, as if the weight of the material were too much for its design. Aside from the stenciled numbers painted along the front, it had no designation, no logo, nothing to indicate what might hide inside.
She took a step closer, then stopped and stared some more. The governor’s estate peeked over the roofline of the buildings so that she could just make out the left wing. Her room waited there. Her things, her history, and a future full of Jarn. Vashia looked away and marched forward, only hesitating at the door for the span of a breath before ducking inside.

Don't forget to stop by the tour page to enter the Giveaway!!
:) Frances
Tour Stops/Schedule: http://coffeeandcharactersservices.blogspot.com/2013/09/blog-tour-cover-reveal-sign-ups-for_7190.html

Buy links added:
epub: http://stores.modularmarket.com/zharmae/shrouded-p41.php?retain_errors=Y&retain_notices=Y
print: http://stores.modularmarket.com/zharmae/false-impressions-print-6-x-9-paperback-p42.php
kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Shrouded-Princes-Shroud-Frances-Pauli-ebook/dp/B00GTB3IO4/

Audio Give Away

The second short story anthology has released in audio, and to celebrate, I want to give away a few copies of either or both books. You can find the descriptions/links here: http://www.audible.com/search/ref=a_mn_at_ano_tseft__galileo/175-2442312-4203666?advsearchKeywords=frances+pauli&x=-1073&y=-41

and the Rafflecopter chances to enter are below.
Good Luck and Happy Listening!!



Click on the Covers to listen to the audio samples. :)


a Rafflecopter giveaway